


How to Summon Your Daemon

by rendawnie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Awkwardness, Confusion, Contracts, Feelings, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Missions, Mistakes, Sexual Humor, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 11:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13763649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rendawnie/pseuds/rendawnie
Summary: “So, I summoned you,” he said, after a moment.Joshua nodded.“How long do you stay?” Minghao asked.Joshua’s smile turned charming, almost knowing. “Until you’re done with me.”Remember that one time we talked about this? :D I hope you enjoy!





	How to Summon Your Daemon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shuuvee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuuvee/gifts).



Minghao gripped the phone tighter in his hand, trying to hide behind the the doorway as best he could. This was the fourth phone call he’d made in the last ten minutes, and Junhui still wasn’t answering. Silently, Minghao cursed his best friend for never setting up his voicemail inbox. Not that he’d know what to say, right now.

He sighed, hanging up and re-dialing a fifth time, never taking his eyes off the stove in the kitchen. Minghao was afraid of what would happen if he did.

Finally, Junhui came through and picked up his phone. “Oh my fucking god, _what._ It’s ass o’clock, Hao.” He sounded like he was still wrecked from the night before. Minghao would usually have cared more about that, but he couldn’t afford to, this morning.

“Jun,” Minghao started in a shaky voice, swallowing hard. “What _happened_ last night?”

On the other end of the line, Junhui groaned. “Really? Can’t we do this later, when I’m not still drunk, man?”

Minghao heard whistling start from in front of the stove. Jaunty, carefree whistling. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the door frame. “No. We cannot. I am having…” Minghao paused, glancing up again for a brief moment. Still there.

“I am having...a situation, Jun,” he finished, trying to keep his voice at a whisper instead of a frantic yodel, which was how all his words sounded internally.

Minghao could practically hear Junhui rolling his eyes. He could also hear random shuffling and crashing, interspersed with a few curses. He waited. It took a while.

When Junhui spoke again, he sounded approximately fourteen percent more annoyed. “What _kind_ of situation, Minghao?”

Minghao slid down to the floor, crouching just out of view, he hoped. “There is…” he trailed off, fully aware that the next words he was about to say were going to sound thoroughly, epically ridiculous. But, there was no way around it.

“There is a demon in my kitchen, Jun.”

Junhui snorted, barely missing a beat. “Is _that_ what you’re calling him,” he said, and it was more of a wry statement than a question.

Minghao felt his jaw drop, just a little. He attempted to raise it back to it’s correct location. It sort of worked. “Okay, so I’m _not_ crazy,” he breathed, already relieved. “What did--”

“I mean, shit, man. Was it _that_ good? A demon. Wow,” Junhui continued, cutting him off.

Minghao frowned. “Was _what_ that good? What are you talking about?”

Junhui snickered. “The ‘demon’. I’m assuming you mean the guy you took home last night when you left the party. Y’know. For sex.” Junhui paused. “How wasted _were_ you, dude?”

Minghao groaned softly. “Zero wasted. I had less than half a beer. I had less than half a beer and absolutely no sex, and there is now a demon in my kitchen. A literal demon, Jun. Complete with tiny little horns and silver eyes.”

Amazingly, Junhui wasn’t even acting like anything Minghao was saying was particularly strange, no stranger than anything that would have come out of his mouth _had_ he been blasted out of his mind. Instead, he sighed in a manner that Minghao could only describe as obnoxiously _placating._ “Does this demon have pink hair? Kinda cute and elfy lookin’? Smiles a lot and plays the guitar?”

Minghao stared into the corner of his living room, where an unidentified acoustic guitar leaned against the wall. “Sure,” he muttered.

“Dude, that guy’s name is Jersh, or something. Pretty sure he said Jersh. He showed up right as you were babbling about finding that book and summoning a demon and we were all laughing our asses off at you. You left with him pretty fast after that,” Junhui reported.

Minghao frowned. “I don't remember any of that, after the book,” he replied, getting up and tiptoeing into the living room towards his coat. He dug in one pocket, then the other, finding a slim, paperback tome after a moment and yanking it out.

 

_How to Summon Your Daemon._

 

Minghao sighed, tossing the book onto an end table. “And Jersh definitely isn’t a real name,” he added, as if it mattered.

Junhui chuckled. “Well, if you weren’t drunk, which I highly doubt because you were acting like a _lunatic,_ then I guess this Jersh guy’s dick came pretty close to recreating that feeling. I’ve never been boned so hard that I saw horns and silver eyes, though. I’m impressed.” Minghao rolled his eyes at the phone.

“Now, why don’t you scamper off and go back to bed with your demon, Hao. Call me later when I’m not half-dead and tell me everything.” Junhui hung up before Minghao could protest. He wondered, not for the first time, why he was even friends with Junhui. He was never any help at all.

Minghao crept back towards the kitchen. He tried to do it stealthily, making as little noise as he possibly could, but he tripped halfway there and ran into a chair in the living room, making it scrape across the wood floor loudly. Minghao froze, cringing. Waiting. Waiting for his extremely probable death.

He didn't realize he’d closed his eyes until he heard a light, lilting voice from the kitchen. “Hey! You’re up. I took the liberty of making pancakes. Join me!”

Whatever preconceptions Minghao had about demons, this creature, whatever he was, had just broken absolutely all of them, with just a few sentences. His voice was so sunny, so... _happy._ He didn’t sound at all dark or evil or even a little bit foreboding. Minghao honestly wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Either way, Minghao forced his eyes open, and the demon was grinning at him over his shoulder as he stood at the stove, flipping pancakes one by one with an expert precision Minghao had never really witnessed.

As Minghao took trembling, slow steps forward, the demon continued to smile. He had a nice smile. Not that Minghao needed that thought, at all. “I heard you on the phone. Sorry for eavesdropping. But, I’ve put away the horns and inhuman eyes,” the demon said pleasantly as Minghao approached. “I thought it might make you more comfortable.”

Minghao sat at the table automatically. He hadn’t meant to. His legs wanted to run. The rest of him, however, apparently wanted to stay here and welcome the cold embrace of certain death at the hands of a ruthlessly adorable demon.

Minghao stared at the demon as he set a huge plate of pancakes on the table with a rather grand sweep of his free arm, accompanied by a wink that should have been uncomfortably, awkwardly greasy, but instead made Minghao feel just...uncomfortably fluttery. Two large glasses of orange juice were being poured when Minghao finally found his words.

“Uh...Jersh?”

In front of the fridge, the glasses in his hands, the demon chuckled. “It’s Josh, actually. Joshua. Jisoo. Any one of those works.”

Minghao was still staring. “Josh,” he repeated, just to be sure.

“Mmhmm.”

“Josh.”

“Right, yes.”

“ _Josh the demon._ ”

There was another chuckle. “Daemon.”

Minghao frowned. “Same thing.”

“It’s really not,” Josh the demon said.

“Okay,” Minghao muttered. “I’ll just...go with Joshua,” he decided. It sounded the most formal, after all. The most fitting for a strange man with a strangely appealing smile in his kitchen, wearing a full suit and tie on a Saturday morning before noon.

“Fine with me, Minghao,” Joshua agreed. Minghao was way past the point of caring that Joshua somehow knew his name without being told. 

Minghao spent way too long cutting himself a tiny square of one pancake. He was trying to determine if it was poisoned, sniffing it as covertly as he could and inspecting every nook and cranny of the fluffy, sweet breakfast food. As he worked on that, Minghao found something else to say. “How did you get here?”

Joshua was just watching him, chin resting in one palm. He hadn’t touched his own food or his juice. “You summoned me last night,” he said matter-of-factly.

Minghao glanced up from the pancakes in front of him, mouth hanging open and fork halfway to his mouth, although he didn’t remember deciding to actually take a bite. “Oh.”

Joshua smiled again. “I’m happy to finally meet you and work with you,” he said, and he sounded like he really meant it. Minghao was so, _so_ confused.

“I don’t...I don’t want to do any...like...devil stuff…” he started, and then he trailed off, realizing how idiotic he sounded. Joshua was frowning, anyway, so he’d obviously said something to offend. Minghao wasn’t sure when he’d started caring about offending his new demon.

 _The_ new demon.

“I don’t do devil stuff,” he said a moment later, looking slightly aghast at the very idea.

Minghao continued to be very, very confused.

“But...you’re a demon? And? There were horns? And...silver, sparkly eyes?” Minghao tried, feeling completely lost and more than a little out of his depth.

“I’m a _daemon_. _Your_ daemon, to be exact. And I just bring those out for show, really,” Joshua admitted. “It seems to make people pay attention. At the very least, it’s a good party trick,” he shrugged.

Minghao realized suddenly that he was chewing. He looked down, and half his pancakes were gone, and he was still alive. He stared at the empty spot on his plate, thinking. “So, I summoned you,” he said, swallowing the mouthful of pancake he'd apparently been working on. Joshua nodded. “How long do you stay?” Minghao asked.

Joshua’s smile turned charming, almost knowing. “Until you’re done with me.”

He wasn’t sure if Joshua had meant it the way Minghao’s brain interpreted it, but either way, Minghao was blushing.

Joshua bit his lip, giggling softly. The sound was nearly enough to melt Minghao where he sat. “Sorry. Um. I stay for a day, usually. Twenty-four hours.”

Minghao raised an eyebrow. “Twenty-four hours from last night?”

Joshua shook his head. “Twenty-four hours from when you sign the waiver.”

Minghao could feel his eyebrows travel even higher up his forehead. “A _waiver_? For what? What kind of work are you looking forward to doing with me?”

Joshua slid off his chair with a small smirk, and Minghao watched as he quite literally pulled a stack of papers _out of his ass,_  or so it seemed, and he was still just sort of absorbing all of  _that_ when Joshua re-seated himself and placed the papers between them.

“Don’t worry, it’s just standard procedure. I won’t let you get hurt. It wouldn't be good for me, if you did,” Joshua said, and his voice sounded gentle, now. Thoughtful. Minghao had finished his pancakes and was just raising his head to see why Joshua’s tone had changed, when it changed again with a clearing of the throat, Joshua’s smile turning brighter as he met Minghao’s gaze. “It’s just a legally binding document stating that you agree to house me for the twenty-four hour period and that I’m not responsible for anything that might stem from our work, up to and including incarceration, unemployment, or emotional terrorism.”

Minghao’s jaw dropped. “Emotional...terror--”

Joshua cut him off again. “It’s pretty wordy, but I promise it’s legit. Here,” he said, offering Minghao a pen. It actually had a feather at the end of it, and appeared to be pre-dipped in silver ink. Until today, Minghao had thought things like this only existed in movies.

Things like Joshua.

Minghao chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the contract, then back up at Joshua. “What kind of work are we doing, Joshua?” he asked again.

Joshua smiled again. He really _did_ smile a lot. Minghao didn’t mind. Joshua leaned across the table, hands clasped in front of him, and Minghao did the same without thinking.

“I’m here to help you figure out your heart's deepest desire," Joshua murmured, almost conspiratorially.

Currently, Minghao’s deepest desire was sorting out the black hole his brain had drawn around the unbelievable events of the night before. Maybe they would work on that, first.


End file.
